


Hot Dogs and Donuts

by misura



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, due South
Genre: Community: fic_on_demand, Crossover, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-24
Updated: 2011-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-15 22:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray just wants to go home, really. Or get a donut, at the very least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Dogs and Donuts

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted March 2008

"I've been thinking," said Fraser.

" 'bout how we can get out of this place?" asked Ray. "That's good, Bennie, that's really good. Because I'm sure I haven't got a clue."

"No. That is to say: yes," Fraser corrected himself. "That is to say - "

" - you've been thinking about that, too, but that's not what you wanted to tell me about," Ray concluded. Fraser blinked.

"That's really quite remarkable, Ray. Do you think it might be because over the past few weeks we've become ... " Fraser made a vague gesture. " ... close? Well, _closer_ , I should say, because as I'm sure you're aware, I also greatly valued our friendship. In fact, I still do."

"Yeah, yeah, can we not get mushy in the middle of freaking nowhere?"

Fraser opened his mouth, probably to point out they were not, in fact, in the middle of 'freaking nowhere', then appeared to think better of it.

"Actually, I'd been thinking about that food-product you just spend a fifth of our remaining funds on."

Ray looked at said 'food-product', decided he didn't want an answer to the question 'how bad could it be?' and told himself that after what looked like a one-way-trip to Weirdville, the least he deserved was something to eat.

"I mean, back home - back in the world we came from - it would be called a 'hot dog', in spite of the fact that it does not, in fact, contain anything canine in nature."

Ray nodded and quickly took a bite of his hot dog, before Fraser would make him lose his appetite. He'd be damned if he'd forked over a fifth of what selling his watch had brought just to give the wolf a quick snack.

"What's called a hot dog is actually simply a sausage, most often made of pork, in a bun."

"All right, one hundred percent with you so far." The hot dog didn't have any taste worth a damn. Ray liked that. It tasted exactly like every other hot dog he'd ever bought off a street-vendor.

"This particular food-product however," Fraser went on, and Ray braced himself for the bad, nasty bit. There always was one with Fraser. "This particular food-product," Fraser resumed, "was sold as a 'sausage in a bun'."

Ray was surprised enough to lower the remains of his hot dog. "Yeah. So?"

"Oh, nothing," said Fraser.

Ray waited for it.

"It's just that, you see, I was wondering," Fraser continued, after a moment. "If in our world, when one buys a hot dog, one gets a sausage in a bun, then would that mean that when one gets a sausage in a bun in this world, one gets a ... well." He looked at Dief and coughed.

Ray swallowed.

"Of course, it's just an idea," Fraser said. "I'm sure - "

"Yeah, thanks, Bennie. I think I'm gonna ask that guy if he's also selling any doughnuts."

.

"A soft, round kind of bun with a hole in the middle?"

"Not a bagel - a doughnut. Doughnut," Ray repeated.

"And where you come from, people pay for that?"

"Sure, why not?" Ray shrugged.

"They pay for the part of the bun that isn't there?"

"Well, yeah, I guess so." Ray sighed and turned to Fraser. "No doughnuts in this place."

"Perhaps you should ask for a - " and off Fraser was, Ray tagging along, trying not to listen.

C.M.O.T. Dibbler barely noticed, his mind's eye filled with visions of buns that weren't there, but for which people would still be willing to pay money. It sounded crazy - but Dibbler knew like no other man that there was only a thin line between insanity and genius, and if he worked it just right ... well, given the required initial investment, the price of failure seemed small enough.


End file.
